ered and inspected, up one brightly
lighted aisle and down the next. At the dress-goods counter there was a
neat little stack of pamphlets entitled "In the World of Fashion." You
took one and sauntered out leisurely. Down Winnebago Street now,
homeward bound, talking animatedly and seemingly unconscious of quick
footsteps sounding nearer and nearer. Just past the Burke House, where
the residential district began, and where the trees cast their kindly
shadows: "Can I see you home?" A hand slipped through her arm; a little
tingling thrill.

"Oh, why, how do, Chuck! Hello, Scotty. Sure, if you're going our way."

At every turn Chuck left her side and dashed around behind her in order
to place himself at her right again, according to the rigid rule of
Chippewa etiquette. He took her arm only at street crossings until they
reached the tracks, which perilous spot seemed to justify him in
retaining his hold throughout the remainder of the stroll. Usually they
lost Cora and Scotty without having been conscious of their loss.

Their talk? The girls and boys that each knew; the day's happenings at
factory and express office; next Wednesday night's dance up in the
Chute; and always the possibility of Chuck's leaving the wagon and
assuming the managership of the office.

"Don't let this go any further, see? But I heard it straight that old
Benke is goin' to be transferred to Fond du Lac. And if he is, why, I
step in, see? Benke's got a girl in Fondy, and he's been pluggin' to get
there. Gee, maybe I won't be glad when he does!" A little silence. "Will
you be glad, Tess? H'm?"

Tess felt herself glowing and shivering as the big hand closed more
tightly on her arm. "Me? Why, sure I'll be pleased to see you get a job
that's coming to you by rights, and that'll get you better pay, and
all."

But she knew what he meant, and he knew she knew. And the clasp
tightened until it hurt her, and she was glad.

* * * * *

No more of that now. Chuck--gone. Scotty--gone. All the boys at the
watch works, all the fellows in the neighbourhood--gone. At first she
hadn't minded. It was exciting. You kidded them at first: "Well, believe
me, Chuck, if you shoot the way you play ball, you're a gone goose
already."

"All you got to do, Scotty, is to stick that face of yours up over the
top of the trench and the Germans'll die of fright an' save you wastin'
bullets."

There was a great knitting of socks and sweate